


Perfection, Squared

by kerithwyn



Series: Beyond the Fringe: Tales from the Kinkmeme [1]
Category: Fringe
Genre: Crack, Doppelcest, Doppelganger, Fringe Kink Meme, M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-16
Updated: 2011-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's better than one Lincoln? TWO LINCOLNS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection, Squared

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Totally off-canon. A lot less antagonism between the two universes in the nonexistent backstory.
> 
> Notes: CRACK ON CRACK TOAST. I should not be left unsupervised. This also tried to develop a plot, but I slapped it back down. Other tags: Silly; more talky than it should be; I fail at porn.
> 
> Written for the [Fringe kinkmeme](http://fringe-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/) using the following prompt:
> 
> Blue Lincoln/Red Lincoln, glasses.
> 
> Inspiring quote:  
> LINCOLN LEE: No, I am perfect, but he's a close second.

The first thing Lincoln thinks is: those glasses, who does this guy think he is, Clark Kent?

And the second, hot on the first's heels: of course he's Clark, because I'm Superman.

Third: We are *smokin'.*

The other Lincoln's mouth is still hanging open in shock at seeing another version of himself, but Lincoln has to give him credit for not completely losing his shit. This guy's had only minimal contact with Fringe Division, his world isn't subject to wormhole events, and he's part of the FBI, which hasn't been dissolved over here and still investigates ordinary crimes. Seeing his double suddenly materialize in his apartment isn't anywhere in his lexicon. Fair's fair; a couple of months earlier, it wouldn't have been in Lincoln's either.

"Hey," he says softly, trying not to spook his alternate, "it's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. Yes, I am your double from an alternate universe, and I know that's a lot to believe, but--"

The other Lincoln (and that's it, Lincoln decides to think of him as "Lee" to keep things straight) swallows hard, pushes his glasses back on his face, and says, "This is a 'Fringe Division' thing, isn't it."

Lincoln blinks at him and wow, it's nice to have all his assumptions about his own intelligence and adaptability confirmed. "Yeah. They know about us, but how did you--"

Lee interrupts just like he would. "I ran a case with them not too long ago, my security clearance got hiked up a couple of levels. Enough to know they're working on things that aren't--aren't normal. I put in for a transfer, but...." he shakes his head. "Alternate universe. So over there, you're...?"

"Part of Fringe Division, yeah. It's--a lot different." Lincoln looks around at Lee's apartment, a virtual mirror to his own. "I came through here because it's easier in a place with a lot of sympathetic resonance."

"And you're here because?" Lee's tone is wary, and Lincoln approves.

"Reconnaissance. Seeing if the crossover would work. And I--" oh, who was he ever kidding that he could keep from spilling everything, even without prompting. "I was desperate to meet my doppelganger."

"When you're here, aren't you *my* doppelganger?" Lee retorts tartly, and Lincoln has to laugh because it's true and also, the indignation is too damn cute. He really is too damn cute. Both of him.

Lee watches him laugh, assessing, and Lincoln would really like to wipe that apprehensive look off his face. It should be as simple as determining what would work on *him,* but he's always been more swayed by actions rather than words, and the particular action he's increasingly wanting to take might just get him punched. He can take a punch--and this FBI version of himself can't have half Lincoln's field training or specialized skill set, so he's not worried on that count--but still, he's invaded the other guy's space and manners are manners.

Finally Lee sighs and rubs at his forehead. "I should be calling my superiors. Digging out those first contact protocols we're not supposed to know about. But unless you're really more different than I can imagine...I know you'll tell me the truth."

"I'd be the worst spy ever. Can't keep a secret," Lincoln agrees, and by Lee's rueful smile he can tell that's true for his other self as well. "So honest truth, I'm here because my world needs help. Our side is facing environmental degradation on a massive scale. Our tech is more advanced in some ways, but you guys have a knack for innovative solutions."

"In that case, why not send--"

"A science or diplomatic team? Because we had to know the crossover would work, that the thin spot would hold stable. And I'm expendable." It's flat truth and he accepted that, honestly, when the assignment came up. He's Fringe-trained, sure--but ultimately he's just a soldier with a science degree, and on his side there are more of those than ever coming out of the Academy. He doesn't have a wife and kids to leave behind. And most important, he'd won the coin toss with Charlie to see which of them would make the jump. (And a good thing he never told Charlie about how his brother'd taught him to spin the toss, too.) But Lee looks appalled. "Hey, it's cool. Part of the job."

"Not 'cool,' by any means," Lee mutters. "But you're here, and..." he pauses. "Uh. This isn't a matter/antimatter thing, right? The world won't blow up if we touch?"

"No. You nerd," Lincoln says fondly, because it's exactly the kind of thing he'd asked when this all started. "Here, give me your hand."

Lee looks at his outstretched hand for a second and then reaches out, his palm cool when he touches Lincoln. Lincoln grins a little and squeezes before dropping the grip; no sense in freaking the mundane. "See? No earth-shattering kaboom."

Lee's laugh is as full of as much relief as amusement. "So you've got Marvin over there, huh?"

Talking about kids' cartoons is pretty much the last topic of conversation Lincoln'd figured on, but he is nothing if not flexible. "Oh, sure. Marvin, Bugs, Zip, Daffy--"

"What's a 'Zip'?"

"Little orange dude, goes running around like a maniac."

Lee's face scrunches up under the glasses. "Like Speedy Gonzales, I guess."

"'Speedy'-- okay, sure." It sounds a little racist to Lincoln but getting into a cross-cultural argument really doesn't interest him much. "So, look, is it okay if I hang here? I'd love to walk around and see your world but that's probably more of a security risk than you're willing to take, and I don't want to get you in trouble. Should just be a couple of hours before I'm, uh, called back."

The wary look is back. "And I'm supposed to, what, keep my mouth shut about this?"

"No, you're going to report everything you're inclined to, although I'd suggest calling up your Fringe people first so your superiors don't slam you in the nuthouse." At Lee's grimace he knows he's right on target. "Like I said, this is only a test to make sure the crossover is stable. Since I don't seem to be imploding or anything, you'll be hearing more from us soon."

"I am," Lee says suddenly, "taking all of this more calmly than I should be."

"All that Star Trek you watched as a kid," Lincoln reassures him. "I watched it too, that's part of why I was chosen. You're, you know, open to the possibilities."

"So open minded that my brain's fallen out, apparently," Lee says dryly, and scrubs at his head, then checks Lincoln out again. Or maybe he's just taking stock of the differences, but it does kind of look like--

"So, uh, what's with the hair?"

Lincoln grins because the question sparks such a cherished memory. "Old girlfriend made me up once for a club, I decided I liked it." The rest of the outfit--leather pants, makeup, and all--only made reappearances at Halloween or the occasional Rocky Horror midnight show.

Lee sort of "hmmmms" noncommittally and offers, "I never got my vision corrected. Always meant to, but..." he shrugs a little.

"I had to, for the job." And even if he hadn't on purpose, it would have been fixed by default during one of his several injury-repairing nanite baths. But again, there's no sense in freaking Lee out with the reality of life on the other side. "So Le-- Lincoln," and it's so weird to hear his name come out of his mouth, addressing someone else, "if you wanna make those calls, it's cool."

Lee's stare is very intense suddenly, very focused. "I'm an analyst. I'm used to assessing the situation...thoroughly...before making a recommendation. And I'm not quite sure what I'll say, yet."

It *sounds* like the kind of line Lincoln wants to hear, but he's not willing to risk cross-universal relations on his intuition. Yet. "Well, we could compare childhoods, or if you had questions--"

"I want to know," Lee says, "who *really* did your hair."

And Lincoln starts to laugh, helplessly, because--seriously, did he really think he could dissemble, even a little? Especially to his mirror-double? "Okay! I wasn't lying, though. My girlfriend did the makeup. My boyfriend did the hair."

Lee holds perfectly still for a moment before he nods and smiles, his expression wry. "I'm afraid your life stories are going to be a lot more exciting than mine. Especially given that you're..." he waves a hand toward Lincoln's leather jacket and camo pants, "Action Guy, in addition to the more...exciting social life." He nods again, looking like he's come to some kind of decision. "But this is too unique an opportunity to pass up and I really do want to learn as much as I can about you before the mad scientists descend. --but you'd probably counted on that," he adds, and Lincoln grins in agreement.

"Seal it with a kiss?" Lincoln suggests, mostly joking and only partly hopeful, but the flare of interest in Lee's eyes tells him that yeah, they *are* thinking the same thing, and when would he have this chance again?

Lee takes off the glasses and hey, there is steel under there after all, in the directness of his look. "So you *are* thinking what I'm thinking, Pinky."

"What's a--" Pinky, he wants to ask, but Lee's mouth is on his and damn. This is way hotter than it should be and nothing he's ever going to put in a report. The others can find out with their alternates, if they want.

"Think I'll leave this out of the report," Lee murmurs against his mouth, and again, the congruence of thought is so perfect that all he can do is snicker a little against his double's skin.

"It's legitimate research," he says as his hands start peeling Lee out of his so-formal suit. "Find out how alike we really--"

"You're a *talker,*" Lee says, sounding amused and surprised. "--no, that's fine, just try not to scare my neighbors. I do," he adds, his hands now busy on Lincoln's pants, "have to live in this universe."

 

And it's not really unexpected, how much they end up having in common, although the specific differences make them both laugh or gasp, as appropriate. Lincoln hadn't planned on this, but c'mon, the possibility had been there right from the start, and there was no way in hell anyone who knew him would expect him to pass up the opportunity. Charlie will have the truth out of him in less than a minute, and Liv...

Liv's going to laugh her ass off when he gets home.


End file.
